


Assassination By Alphabet

by Loremaiden



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, Prompt Fic, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1869258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loremaiden/pseuds/Loremaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A, B, C, D...J?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assassination By Alphabet

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to JWP #25 (So Very Gorey) on Watson's Woes.
> 
> So Very Gorey: Surely an artist that would tickle the modern Holmes' funnybone, and possibly would have gotten a laugh (or a long, cold stare) from the ACD original. Take your inspiration from one of the works of Edward Gorey, from the man, from a random title of one of his works, or whatever else tickles your fancy.

John came in after a long day at the clinic to find the flat curiously empty. John tiredly massaged the back of his neck and figured that Sherlock had told him earlier that he had a meeting with Greg or something and he had just forgotten in his knackered state.

It had been a long, tiring month for all involved. They had just wrapped up a case where a serial killer had taken his lurid inspiration from Edward Gorey's _Gashlycrumb Tinies_ , as Sherlock eventually figured out.

Thankfully Greg's team found the killer before he got to Death D, but not before Greg uncharacteristically blew up at John. Greg just as quickly apologized and John accepted; he knew that for whatever reason the stress of this case was unduly affecting the DI. Nevertheless, the two of them had kept their distance since then.

John was about to plop himself onto the couch, when he noticed a bottle of his favorite beer on his desk, with a typed note underneath it:

_Sorry for blowing up at you, this case was eating at me. No hard feelings? --Lestrade_

A small smile played across John's face as he walked over to his desk and picked up the bottle.

Before he could even register the event, the door smashed open and the bottle was violently smacked out of his hands by a Sherlock whirlwind. The bottle shattered on the floor.

"What the _hell_ , Sherlock?!"

"John! Did you drink it? _Did you drink it?!_ "

"Of course I didn't _drink_ it because you just _slapped_ it out of—oh Christ..."

Both men looked down at the floor and watched John's beverage eating a hole straight through the carpet.

After they quickly evacuated themselves from the flat, Sherlock speedily called Lestrade while pacing back and forth on the sidewalk like a wary panther.

"Lestrade. The Gashlycrumb Killings. He has a partner."

" _What?_ How do you know?"

"Whoever it is, they've gotten impatient and jumped ahead a few letters. J is evidently for John who almost took lye by mistake."


End file.
